


Fire meet Gasoline

by Goatalicious



Category: Claymore (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant? How bout Canon Complaint, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/F, First Kiss, Jean lives through the power of I'm Gay and I Say So, Love Confessions, Near Death Experiences, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Clare, Nonbinary Deneve, Other, Panic Attacks, Queer Character, They/Them Prounouns in Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 06:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18867433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goatalicious/pseuds/Goatalicious
Summary: So come on now, take the match, strike the match nowWe're a perfect match, perfect somehowWe were meant for one another, come a little closerxxxDrabbles and ficlets of Helen and Deneve at various points.





	Fire meet Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly altered canon because #yolo  
> More to come continuing from this lil AU.
> 
> In this Deneve and Clare use They/Them prounouns. I'm kinda new to writing that way so sorry if it get confusing for those not used to it.

The air is freezing, snow falling too softly and kindly to the stone roads of Pieta. Deneve does not feel the bite of the cold, nor the wetness creeping into their uniform. They don’t turn towards the sound of familiar footsteps through the snow. 

“Its cold out.” Helens’ tone is a false whine. She settles next to Deneve, for once keeping a slight distance.

“We have more problems than the cold.” They say simply, looking straight ahead into the tundra. “You should be resting.”

“Probably better to have more than one person on watch.”

“Not sure what the use of me watching is if you’re not even resting like you’re supposed to be.”

Helen scoffs but has no decent comeback. She's probably not here to complain about the cold she cannot feel. The silence that fills the space between them is not awkward, but its one they yearn to fill with words left unspoken.

Deneve reaches across the silence with a hand. Helen stares at it for a moment before she takes it. They note, with less fear than expected, that to the west another warriors yoki begins pulsing in rapid pulses of three. A signal.

The enemy is closing in.

They make their way over together, hand in hand. Deneve squeezes Helens hand tightly as tears start to fall. Before they reach the rest of the group. Helen stops walking. Deneve finds they finally have to face her.

Even with red rimmed eyes and traces of frozen tears along her lashes, Deneve finds their breath stolen away at the quivering smile Helen gives them. 

“Heya Den?” Helen sniffles, wiping away her tears.

“Yes?”

“Don’t die.” Deneve gives her a hard look, but Helen continues. “I have something to tell you later. So stay alive, okay?”

Deneve finds that words won’t make it past the rock in their throat. They nod, before continuing to walk forward. Letting go of Helen's hand to draw their swords.

When Deneve finds themselves awake, pain is the first thing they feel. The pain means they’re alive. They open their eyes to a grey sky, snow swirling downward fast. To get up unto their hands and knees is a struggle, pain lacing through their legs. 

Their stuck up on a roof , the boards broken and cratered where they impacted being thrown down by-

The Awakened Beings. The battle. They’re in Pieta. With comrades.

_With Helen._

Deneves chest tightens painfully, to the point where they begin hacking wetly. Blood drops speckle their worn out glove and the snow. Shit. 

“Hello?” a voice calls from below. “Is someone there?”

“Yes.” Deneve calls out, voice hoarse, nearly unrecognizable.

“Wait there, I’ll come get you.” the voice says and Deneve slumps down.

There's no time to panic. 4 broken ribs, many cuts and scrapes, one of their ankles is twisted grotesquely. They can hardly feel any yoki anywhere in their body. Weak pulses of it barely keep them going. They would have to heal later. 

The roof shakes slightly as something bumps against the siding. When Deneve looks up she sees Clare. Their expression blank.

“So you survived huh? Ranked 48 my ass.” 

Clares mouth twists a bit. Maybe in humour or pain. “I’m assuming you can’t move?”

“If I could have, I would have.” 

Clare nods before picking up Deneve bridal style. They make it down the ladder with minimal pauses, Clare obviously in pain too. 

“Miria directed us to go out and find any survivors.” And corpses goes unsaid.

Deneve contemplates and asks their next question carefully. “Who do you have so far?” 

Clare glances down at them, hesitating for a moment, before they begin. “Miria, Rankee 31 Cynthia, we found Queenie but she didn’t hold out, Jean’s alive-”

“Jean?” 

Clare winces as they walk, guilt crossing their features. “Yes. She's alive, barely.”

“And what of Helen?”

“It's still early in the search. I don’t know who else has been found yet.” Clare isn’t one to lie, so Deneve allows for a single spark of hope to light.

They make it to what must’ve been a beautiful church before the attack. There's a gaping hole in the side that they walk through. One side of the pews is empty except for a lone resting warrior, the other has a few bodies of the fallen, carefully covered in cloths. Miria walks swiftly between rows, bending over an uncovered one. Her hands are steady, stance calm, but her eyes are stormy. Tear tracks cut subtly through the dust on her cheeks.

Her eyes soften slightly when she turns to face them. “Good to see you Deneve. Go have a seat by Jean until you’re healed up a bit.”

Clare drops them off gently on a pew beside the other resting warrior. Even so, Deneve hisses as pain laces up their ankle through their leg. Clare winces and kneels down. “Want help?”

“I can do it.” 

Clare huffs “Let me help you. Then you can search too.”

“Alright.” Deneve grimaces, taking off their ruined gloves and rumpling them together. They bit down on the fabric and nod before closing their eyes. In one sharp movement Clare readjusts their ankle. 

Pain is not a novel thing for warriors. But it is less bearable with minimal yoki. So Deneve yells through their teeth as the intense pain cut through the haze. Jean places a hand on their shoulder sympathetically while they pant through the makeshift gag.

Jean nods to Clare and they make their way out. Deneve leans back and finally gets a good look at Jean. Her hair is mussed and crusted with blood in some spots. The hand hand not on Deneve’s shoulder rests over her stomach, where the skin is raw and new. Despite the injuries and clear pain she’s in, her eyes are bright. 

“Clare’s real guilty.” Deneve blurts, unable to think of what else to say.

Jean nods. “I know. I don’t blame Clare, if thats what you’re worried about.”

“You could’ve died. They would’ve been devastated.” Some bitterness creeps into their voice.

The warrior sighs heavily. “I know. I’m very glad I didn’t. There's still so much I have to tell them. So much I want to see. Waking up today is more than I could ever ask for.”

“Good. Don’t pull something like that again.”

“I don’t plan to.” 

They lapse into a solemn silence. Deneve waits anxiously, dividing their sparse yoki between getting their ribs and ankle into a manageable state. If they have to limp while searching, they will.

Over the next half hour, Clare and Cynthia find and slowly bring in more comrades, more corpses. Some more intact than others. Not all found alive stay that way. Deneves dread grows so big its hard to stay still. When a headless torso gets pulled in, they finally break. 

Yuma, Miria and Jean startle when Deneve gets up abruptly, swearing at the shock of pain. They grit their teeth and make their way to the exit. “I need air.”  

Cold air fills their lungs, but they feel more as if they’re drowning, stuck so far underwater they don’t know which way is up. Hobbling around aimlessly down cobblestone streets tears finally start to fall. 

 

_Where are you?_

 

_There's still so much I want to tell you._

 

_So much I want you to see._

 

“Deneve?”

Their head whips towards the sound, still gasping for air. Down one of the alleys is a figure, outlined in white. 

“Helen, please.” Their words punctuated by sobs.

“Oh gods!” Comes the broken reply. 

Deneve squeezes their eyes shut and collapses to their knees as the figure approaches quickly. “Its me Den! Breathe!” 

Deneve struggles to comply, eventually reaching a slightly more normal heart rate and breathing through shuddering rasps. They realize their being held against someone's chest. Pushing away they look up.

Into Helens eyes.

The flood of tears begins a new, this time accompanied with hiccuping laughs. Helens in a similar state. One of her arms is hanging uselessly at her side, uniform torn and bloodied but _alive_. The other hand cups their face, wiping away tears with a gentle thumb. 

Helen leans forward until she rests her forehead against Deneve’s. “Hi.”

Deneve chuckles, and sniffles “What did you want to tell me earlier?” 

Helen's eyes widen for a moment, a small smile, shy almost, spreading across her lips. “I wanted to tell you that I love you Den.”

Helen shifts to give them space, sliding her hand away, but Deneve only reaches over and grasps it. The other arm hooks around Helens neck to pull her forward. 

They meet in a messy kiss. One that starts out startled, desperate, before it calms. Neither of them mind the dirt or blood that come with it. Deneve finds themselves again dizzy from lack of air, but would be more than happy to drown themselves in the moment. Eventually, they pull away from one another, now closer than ever. 

“I love you too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters soon!   
> This won't necessarily be a full on story, just a bunch of little fics all in the same AU.


End file.
